The Night After
by SweetBrownie
Summary: The Walrider lives on inside Miles Upshur and the interest from the government grows. Hardly a day goes by before a new nightmare begins. But there is one small pause, the calm before a storm. Four people get a glimpse of the horrors during that pause, and two of them see more than the rest. (The DLC: Whistleblower is not included in this story.)
1. Chapter 1

The walls are fairly clean, but they are full of scratch marks made by sharp objects. The lines create words or pictures of poor creative style. The walls is painted with a faint yellow and green, with the green color beginning from the roof and the yellow from the floor, making their meeting on the middle. The man sits on the floor in the far end corner of his little cell, not willing to sit on the poor excuse of a bed standing beside him. He looks at the bars that makes up one of the walls, staring on the robust cell-door positioned in the middle of it.

His both hands are wrapped in bandage, bloody from the missing fingers. He hasn't lost all his fingers, but one finger per hand, and a better treatment than wrapping them up in bandage couldn't be done. Every time he sees anyone that as much as slightly resembles a doctor, or something that looks like doctor tools, he completely freaks out, begging not to lose any more fingers.

He dares not to give in to his sleep, even when he hasn't slept in days, because of the nightmares. They have tried to sedate him, partly to force him to rest and partly to get the chance to mind his hands, but to no success. When he sees the syringe he begins to struggle and beg, and in his panic he is able to overpower the three men that is assigned to hold him down. There is the idea to use chloroform or something like that, but by the time that idea is hatched the man is so frighten that he is ready to punch down anyone who comes close.

And so here he is, confined to be locked up in a cell of a police station, with the people that tried to help him worryingly discussing in an office nearby. A police cell is the best they can offer right now, because if they keep him in a hospital he might injure other patients or damage equipment in his panic attacks. In the dispute between doctors and policemen the thought to send him to a mental institute occurs many times, as they think it is the best place that can handle his brittle state of mind.

But most of this doesn't concern the man as much as the memories of the wretched place he escaped from. Or have he truly escaped? There is a part of him that doubts, that knows he is not truly safe. The demon he tried to kill still lives on, it have only changed host.

It´s living on in him, the man sitting in the corner of a cell of a police station. He feels it snarling, scratching and laughing, making him relive the hell in his dreams. And as true as the man is alive, the demon is too. As true as the nightmares that threatens to take over his sleep, as true as the attacks he gets every time he sees a doctor and as true as the old, dried blood on the bandages around his hands.

His name is Miles Upshur, and his problems have only just begun.

* * *

The night has arrives and darkness covers the police station, as two policemen make their nightly round down the hallway, with the bars and the prisoners on the other side of them. They stop in front of the cell containing the man, and after sharing a worried glance the two policemen moves on, leaving the man in the corner of his cell alone. When they enter the door on the far side of the hallway, one of them sighs.

Officer Danny Zacchary, often called Dan, is not sure what to make of the man in that cell. In his early fifties, and his gray hair showing for it, this is something he hasn't seen during all his years in the police force. With his tired, dark brown eyes, he can see on Miles that he has seen something no-one should see. But exactly what that is are nothing the old officer knows of. His colleague, Officer Ian Young, is in his middle twenties, has light brown hair, green eyes and well trained. Not having all the experience Danny has doesn't make him blind or unaware of Miles state. Ian understands as well how grave this is, but not allowed on the meeting earlier have left him without most of the information.

So it´s only natural for him to ask Danny, but when the questions comes, the old officer have a hard time to answer.

- Dan, you were on that meeting, right? What´s his story?

Danny breathes heavily and furrows his forehead, all while he and Ian walks to the staff room.

- I don´t know what to make of him, Ian. Even when we just got him this morning he is more or less a lost case.

- The others talks, Danny. They believe this have to do with murder. Is that true?

They arrive to the staff room, where Ian takes a seat at the table and Danny turns on the coffee machine.

- Don't know, Danny speaks as he sits down, face to face with Ian. We found him outside Mount Massive Asylum soaked in blood. The tests showed it was his own blood, but there are no wounds on him except those missing fingers.

- Then how could that blood be his?

- That´s the thing, Ian. It's a part of the bigger mystery.

Danny sighs, covering his face in his hands. He is tired, most because of the attention around Miles Upshur. The officer is also worried of what happened to the man, and what will happen.

- We have no idea what he have gone thru, he goes on, looking up at his friend. He refuse to talk about it, or about anything, so whatever happened to him surely scarred him. Well, the only time he talks is when he pleads about… you know…

- Not even a word? Ian asks.

Danny shakes his head, with deep creases on his brow. The coffee machine makes a noise, declaring that it´s finished. Ian gets two mugs with the drink and takes a seat again, offering one mug to the other sitting man.

- And the army doesn't make things easier, Danny continues after taking a sip on the coffee. They don't let anyone enter the asylum.

- What have the army got to do with this?

- Beats me. He´s here only because he phoned us himself. Just hours after we got him, the army came. Saying things like that the asylum is governmental matters.

Ian goes quiet, not knowing what to think. With things turning weirder, and there is more questions than answers, the two policemen can´t do much more that to watch and wonder.

- What a mess, Ian says after blowing on his coffee, tight followed by a sip.

- I know. And they will come and get him, too. We got strict orders not to interrogate him, not to speak to him, not to touch him.

They stare at each other, sharing a tired look, letting the other know what both are thinking. This is something far larger than they first guessed.

- They'll take over the case, Danny speaks. When they leave with him tomorrow, he will no longer be our job.

They both sat there for a while, not knowing what more could be said. Danny didn´t know what to think about all this. Miles is something taken from some kind of horror movie, with a lot of mystery in it. Like some kind of ghostly detective story, without no real detective.

Taking another sip from his coffee, he can´t stop speculate about the history of the man sitting in that cell. What happened to him? Nothing good, anyone can see that from the condition that Miles is in. Danny can feel his curiosity nagging at his mind, not letting him think at anything else than to investigate. But he can´t, Miles Upshur is the government´s case.

* * *

Veronica Ford, a psychiatrist with several years in the business behind her, lingers by the entrance of the police station. In the middle of her thirties, she knows most mental disorders and unhealthy habits. She takes a lock of her black hair out of her face and puts it behind the ear, unsure if she should do what she has planned.

All her coworkers have leaved hours ago, both doctors and others psychiatrists, but she can´t leave. Even when the sun is long gone, and the moon and the stars are covering the sky, she can´t shake of the feeling that her job isn´t done. She must speak with Miles Upshur one last time; she needs to know what happened.

- My God, I must be nuts, she mutters as she stands there, looking at the building.

Even when her need to get hold of the truth is strong, she is still unsure if she really should go in. She, and all the others with any kind of medical knowledge, knows that there is nothing wrong with him other than the two missing fingers and the fact that he is in shock. There is the question how all the blood found on him can possible be his own. He doesn't miss that much blood, and the fact that the only injury is his missing fingers makes it only more mind-struggling.

She looks up at the sky, spying for clouds. There is none, just a clear picture of small diamonds and a large pearl on a black carpet. She shakes her head in disbelief, knowing this to be of the extreme. She can´t seriously think about going back into the station, when she knows there is nothing more there to get. Tomorrow the army will come and get him, and until then no-one are supposed to see him; there is nothing more she can do. And that´s the end of it.

But she needs to know, before it is too late. She looks at the entrance, giving it one last thought. She straightens up, taking a deep breath. And with one stride after another, she walks in thru the doors and towards the counter.

- Excuse me.

The woman behind the counter looks up, smiles and takes down the paper she reads from. She is a bit older the Veronica is, maybe somewhere in her fifties. She has gray hair, tacked in a ponytail, and have blue eyes. With reading-glasses on the tip of her nose, and with a light cover of makeup that is barely visible, she looks cozy and trustworthy.

- Can I help you?

- Can I see this man, Miles Upshur? Veronica requests.

- Sorry, ma´am, but we can´t do that, the woman says quite hastily. Mr. Upshur is not to be disturbed.

Veronica, giving pause to think, decides to introduce herself. She remember seeing the receptionist earlier, when Miles have been brought in.

- I´m a psychiatrist, I was here earlier today. Maybe you remember me? Veronica Ford?

The woman behind the counter gives it a thought, then her face lights up.

- Oh, now I remember. Yes, I know you, Veronica.

Veronica smiles and offers a hand.

- Hello, again, she says.

- Hi, the receptionist smiles, shaking the hand. Nice to see you again. I´m Shara Abigail.

- So, as I said, I´m a psychiatrist and have been here earlier this day. And I must see Miles one more time.

- Sorry, Veronica. I can´t do that. No-one is allowed to speak to him; orders straight from the government.

- I know that, but I really need to talk to him. I want to try to make him say at least one word that makes sense.

Shara sighs and tilts her head, giving Veronica a tired smile.

- If he haven´t said anything until now I doubt he will say anything.

- I know the chance is small, and then there is the order not to speak with him, but do you really think the government will make a better job? We don´t even know what they want with him. He might know something and can tell us, if we just keep on trying.

Shara looks down, thinking. She looks a bit convinced, but not completely. Veronica, not wanting to give up yet, lets a sigh slip and a quiet curse. She reflects on what to say next, not sure what to do.

- Come on, Shara, she pleads after a second. Don´t you want to know? I can see this is buggering you as much as it does me. I slip in, speak with him, and then slip out. No-one has to know me ever being here.

Shara looks up, her eyes staring at Veronica´s. The psychiatrist sees what she have said is true; they both want to know about Miles. The mystery, the lost case, the big question. Not to know is something none of them want to. But then Shara shakes her head, regaining her thoughts.

- I´m sorry. I can´t let you do that.

Veronica sighs in defeat, knowing now that coming here might have been a waste of time. She glances disappointed at her shoes, then up at Shara to regain eye contact.

- I understand, Veronica says, dissatisfied. Sorry to have bothered you this late.

She turns and begins to walk away out the same doors she entered, but just two steps away from the entrance she sees something in the corner of her eye. A black shape, ghostly in appearance, and with faint, black smoke pulsating from its body. Not really a complete being, its eyes observs her just three meter away, by the wall of the room.

* * *

Danny and Ian jumps in surprise as they hear a woman scream. Both of them jolts to their feet and runs towards the direction of the counter at the entrance, their trained instincts telling them to be prepared to face anything. When they arrive they see Shara comforting a woman, unknown to the two policemen. They spy the interior of the room, making sure there are no-one else than the four of them there, before they approach the two females.

- What´s wrong? Danny asks, worry showing in his face and voice.

- Don´t know, Shara says, confused. She says she saw a ghost.

The two officers frowns, obviously not believing what they´re told.

- I swear, I saw a ghost, the woman insists, with eyes big from shock. It was right there.

She points with a finger, and the three others follow the finger´s direction with their eyes to the spot by the wall.

- I can´t see anything, Ian speaks, giving voice to the obvious.

- Of course you can´t, the woman tells, her turn to frown. It´s gone now.

- Whatever it was, it couldn´t have been a ghost, Danny smiles, happy to see it not to be anything worse. You must be tired or something, and thought you saw something that wasn´t there.

- I tell you, it was a ghost. I know what I saw.

- Danny, I don´t know what she really saw, but I´m sure I saw something move, Shara slips in.

- Oh, so you think it was a ghost, too? Danny asks, refusing to believe the talk of a ghost.

- I don´t know what it was. I just saw something move, it was too quick for me to see what it was.

- Yeah, whatever. Make sure this lady makes it home safely, Shara. What´s her business here, anyway?

- Veronica Ford, psychiatrist, the woman presents herself, irritated by the inadequate trust from the policeman, and that he didn´t ask her directly. I was here earlier to take care of Miles Upshur´s mental condition together with a team of doctors, and I´m here now because I want to speak to him one last time.

- I thought I recognized you. Then you know as well as I, Veronica, that you can´t speak with him. No-one are…

- Allowed to speak to him, she continues his sentence, cutting him of while glaring at him. I know, I know, I have heard all that before. But I believe that he knows something of importance.

- Of importance? Like what?

- Like why the government wants him, what they are going to do to him. What he knows and what´s happened to him might be something serious.

Danny´s interest grows, as to why this woman is so resistant to speak with Miles, and the thought hits him. She can´t forget about this either. _But that is not a reason to go snooping in government´s things,_ he thinks to himself.

- And you don´t think this is the government´s business? This isn´t our problem, and they will surely sort this out.

She looks disappointed at him, showing that she was really hoping to get a chance seeing Miles one last time. Abandoning her second try to get to the cell and speak to Miles, she gives one nod.

- Yes, I guess you´re right. They take care of it.

- Good you see that way. Now go home and get some sleep, you surely have work to do in the morning.

She nods again, and not before long she is on her way home and the two officers are alone with Shara.

- Well, Danny says and turns to Ian. Now when that's sorted I think it's for the best to go back to the staffroom. If we have spilled out the coffee we should clean it up. And if not, we might as well throw it away. I bet its cold now.

- Sir, yes, sir.

The two of them goes to the staffroom, but just after two steps Danny turns to Shara.

- Oh, by the way. When are you going home for the day?

- Leo is supposed to come in two hour and take over until morning. Why?

- Phone him and ask if he can come earlier. You must be real tired if you believe yourself seeing that ghost, he speaks, and then smirks jokingly. Maybe the years are gaining on you.

She smiles back in the same manner, and speaks back with pride behind her words.

- Maybe it's you who needs glasses, old-timer. If I´m going, it will be years after you.

Danny chuckles, and goes after Ian. And when he arrives at the staffroom he sees that they, indeed, have spilled out the coffee. In the rush they have knocked the cups of the table and down on the floor, where they have shattered and spread the liquid over the area around the table, making a black/dark-brown puddle. Ian, looking down on the mess, scratches his head and gives Danny a glance.

- It´s just to start cleaning, I guess, Danny sighs and goes looking for the broom closet.

* * *

Veronica, standing at the bus stop while waiting on the right bus, looks down on the ground in disappointment. The only thing she can think about is that she has gone back here for nothing. She hasn't spoken to Miles, and all her questions are still without answer.

Out of nowhere she gets the feeling like she is watched, then she looks up on the other side of the street, and there stands the ghost she only got a glance of earlier. Observing her, it doesn´t move at first. Veronica stares at it with a hand over her mouth in shock. Them standing there, staring on each other in silence for what seems as an eternity, the bus finally comes and blocks their connection. She quickly comes to her senses and quickly makes her way around the bus, finding that the dark figure is gone.

* * *

Danny walks down the corridor half an hour later and, as the time before, he stops at the cell containing Miles Upshur. He looks long and well at the figure, still crouched in the corner. After a few seconds his eyes goes large, and takes a shaking breath.

- It can´t be possible…

In the cell, in front of the bundle of the tired man on the floor refusing to fall asleep, are the bandages. Miles hands lies bare on his legs, and showing all ten fingers uninjured.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author note: indyway92, I´m glad that you like it. And here is the next chapter, hope you like it too.**

* * *

The next morning a small caravan of military cars arrives to the police station. A few spectators quickly gather, curious about the unusual sight. Soldiers force their way in, deaf to anything said to them as they quickly find their way to the cell.

- Wait! Danny intervenes as he blocks the cell door with both hands in front of him to hinder the soldiers. Just wait a minute! I want to know what you are going to do with this man.

- That is nothing of your concern, sir, one of the soldiers answers, a young sergeant with blue eyes and short, light-brown hair covered by a military hat. We are to retrieve him, let´s leave it to that.

- Son, that is where you´re wrong. It is my concern, it became that last night.

- I can´t see how it is.

- I saw his fingers gone when we found him, then late last night they were whole, Danny points a finger to the figure behind the bars. As if nothing happened. I want to know how that is possible.

- I am not authorized to say that, sir. I know only enough to carry out my orders.

- You don´t know? You should know! Look at him, he is a mess. He don´t know what´s happening himself. And after what I´ve seen I know for sure that something serious is going on.

The two stares at each other, a battle of will rages until the sergeant speaks again.

- Step aside.

- No.

The sergeant signs to two other soldiers, and they force Danny to move.

- You can´t do this, the old policeman struggles. We have a right to know!

* * *

Crude hands open the cell and drag the lifeless body out. The eyes flicker as all the strength goes to stay conscious, not caring about the hard hands or the sudden commotion. Someone speaks with a high voice, but the words come like a mumble for Miles. Something about rights and wrongs, about knowing and not knowing. But hearing whatever the voice says is not important; he most stay awake.

He feels the demon move, to wait idle, to look curiously on what´s going to happen next. If Miles didn´t know better, he thought that the spirit would kill these men with the hard hands right away. But he does know. He knows that the demon is resting, preparing for things to come.

* * *

Miles is dragged out in the street, and briskly put in custody in the back of a big prisoner transport car. Three soldiers take a seat with him in the back of the car, with suspicious eyes a hand on their sidearm, ready if something happens. All Danny can do is to watch as they close the doors and drives off in the same formation as they arrived.

- What do we do now? Ian asks, looking as the convoy takes a turn.

- What can we do? Danny asks back, turning to his younger colleague. We had him, but lost him to those people. It´s nothing we can do now, Ian. Only to watch and wait.

They couldn´t do much for Upshur if they don´t want to break some laws and be put in cells themselves. _A bit ironic for cops. _They walk back into the station with slow steps, not eager to go back to their jobs. As they walk Ian turns his head slightly towards Danny, keen on trying to make the old man feel better. But what is there to say? Danny has tried to get answers from those military guys, but hasn't been able to get one word. Not one little answer, one little glance of what they will do to Upshur. Ian knows this have made Danny angry and disappointed.

- What do you think they will do to him? Ian finally asks.

- Don´t know. Might be asking questions and taking some experiments, but whatever they´ll do, they will not let him go in a hurry. Something tells me whatever it is to come, it won't be pleasant.

Ian looks ahead of them, on the door of their small office where they do all the paperwork. He enters the small room and takes a seat at his working table, then watches Danny as he does the same. The older policeman begins to fiddle with the pile of paper in front of him, not minding Ian who looks right at him.

- Don´t take it so hard, Dan, Ian says after a pause and pats his friend on the back. Sooner or later we will get our answers.

* * *

Shara have been at work for most of the day, and what a day it has been. From the moment she arrived in the morning Danny have spoken of how Miles fingers have grown back. She was quite shocked when she heard it the first time the night before, but it easily gets boring if someone is nagging about it the rest of her time at the station that night, and then continue the day after.

Then it has been that with the military; what a mess Danny made it. Only the night before he told her that she might be too old for this, that whatever she thought she saw couldn't be there. Well, of course it couldn´t be a ghost as that Veronica believed. And she calls herself a psychiatrist. Shara shakes her head, smiling to herself. Is she the only one sane here? She´s the only one able to fix these crosswords, anyway.

She looks down on the small squares in the newspaper as she usually does when she have time for it. Even when there is much going on sometime on a police station, there is quiet time as well. She is almost done with the crossword when someone enters and walks up to her. She looks up and sees a man, somewhere in his twenties with hair dark as his eyes, in a black costume. With a straight back, he takes determent steps up to the counter. According to Shara, he looks like one of those secret agent people you see in movies. He stops at the counter and just stares at her without saying anything. Feeling a bit uncomfortable with the man´s eyes and his silence, she clears her throat.

- What can I do for you? she asks.

- Have you for one day and one night kept a man named Miles Upshur here?

Shara narrows her eyes a little. She thought that when Miles was gone everything would go back to normal, that no-one was to come and ask about that man again. But she guesses she´s wrong.

- Yes, that´s right.

- You know where he is now?

Shara doesn't answer immediately. Maybe it is childish to presume to know someone by their clothes and posture, as if this man is with the secret agent he must know the answer to that question. Maybe he is just an ordinary man with an ordinary job, but just look like someone with authority.

- A phone call yesterday said that Miles is to be taken today, it was from the government. And this morning soldiers came and got him. I have no idea where they´ll take him.

The man in front of the counter sighs, and for a minute he looks very tired. Shara wonders what might be so important about Miles to this person, but doesn't ask about it.

- And they didn´t say anything? the man asks. Something that might be helpful?

- Eh, no, not what I can recall. They didn´t say much at all. Maybe Danny can help you; he and one of them had quite an argument.

- Who might this Danny be?

- One of the stationery officers here. You want to speak to him?

- Yes, please.

* * *

Danny eyes the strange man, not knowing what to make of him. Thinking on how he should answer the question Danny stares the man in the face, trying to determinate his nature. Shara looks at the two of them from behind the counter with increased interest, not minding the newspaper with her loving crossword.

- I can´t really help you there, I´m afraid. They didn´t say a word about where they go.

- May I ask what this argument was about, the man in the black costume asks.

- It was that I wanted to know what they´ll do to him, but they refused to answer. They even said that they didn't know themselves.

The man looks away for a moment, thinking to himself. Danny can´t really put his finger on what kind of man he is, but a thing he does know is that this stranger tries to follow the track of Upshur.

- Do you mind me ask a few questions to you? the old officer says, with eyes narrow.

- I believe it´s only fair.

- Why do you want to know where they took Miles?

The stranger sighs, as he seems to do a lot. He takes a moment to himself, and when he finally answers it was with a low voice.

- That man is not like other people. He was once, only for a few days ago actually. He was a reporter, and one day he got hold of a few documents about the Mount Massive Asylum. The information on those papers would shock anyone to the bone.

Danny and Shara glanced at each other, both with worry in their faces. They quickly look back at the man, to keep listening on this strange tale.

- He went to the asylum to know more, in the belief that this would do a good story for the papers. Little did he know that he would be dragged into hell itself. And when he came out… well, you have seen the result yourselves.

When the man was done talking it goes quiet, none of the three present says a word. Danny finds himself shudder, something he doesn't do often.

- You know what happened to him in there?

- I am trying to put it all together, but I know a few things that happened to him. A lot is beyond my knowing however.

Danny keeps his silence, thinking on what the stranger have said. He looks at Shara, seeing she does the same.

- This is why I try to find Miles, Mr. Zacchary, the man in the costume continues. He holds information on what have been transpired in Mount Massive Asylum for several years, but I´m afraid it's more than that.

Danny glanced back at the man with an eyebrow raised, interested on what more there is to Miles Upshur.

- There is something in him, something that has dug its claws in deep. Something that refuses to let go, because if it does it die.

- What, like, have it possessed him? Shara asks quiet, intrigued.

- Much like it. And much like an obligate symbiosis, it heals him of his wounds.

Danny freezes. Even how farfetched this story might sound, Danny believes all of it in the instant. Because he have already seen the proof. When Miles arrived to the station he missed two fingers, then last night they were healed.

- Are you sure? Danny asks, needing to know that this man is a 100 percent certain.

- Completely.

- Is this thing confined in him? Shara slips in, hitting on a crucial point. Or can it walk around without the need of Miles?

- Of that I don't know yet, but what I do know is the name of this thing. It has come to my knowing that it is called the Walrider.

* * *

The Walrider is laughing. Why is it so amused? Miles could never tell, as it seems it could laugh at anything and everything. It didn´t mind if people gets hurt, or die. For the demon it is like listening to a comedian; everything is a joke. And that is the biggest reason why Miles is afraid of it. Only he can hear the laughing, while people suffers and screams for help. The laughing was the last thing he heard before he passed out that night.

The bullets are flying, many hitting him in the chest and digs into his flesh. Many find their way out from his back, hitting the floor or the wall behind him. The pain is overwhelming, and he hears himself screaming. When the bullets finally stop he falls forward, hitting the floor with a thud. When the world slowly turns to black he can hear the screams of the soldiers, how they are ripped apart and the laughing of the crazed demon.

Miles jolts a little when he wakes up, not noticing when he went asleep. He is still in the car, leaning towards the wall. He didn´t look around, as he knows the three soldiers are still there. The caravan is still driving on its way to wherever goal it has.

He hears the demon chuckle, amused over Miles struggle against the inevitable. He tries to keep his eyes open, but fails as the sleep finally wins. And a few minutes later he is back in the nightmares he tries so hard to avoid.

* * *

It has been a sleepless night for Veronica, as she can´t stop think on what she saw. It is real; the ghost have stared at her, followed her to the bus station and observed her. Two times she have seen it, and for hours she have tried to understand if it was a ghost or something else. _Ghost can´t possibly be real, can they? They are only something that the human mind has come to think of, they are not real._

She tries to convince herself that whatever she saw is not a ghost. But then what is it? She don´t know, as the only thing that fits in on its description is a ghost. A cold feeling refuses to disappear as she goes to work. A feeling saying her suspicion is right; something bad will happen to Miles. The government will take him, and who knows what they will do to him.

She stops dead in her tracks when she hears the sound of several cars come near, and as a caravan of big cars, military cars, comes around the corner. She observes them when they drive by, with increased fear in her heart. Something tells her that whatever she saw is tied to Miles, and whatever he goes that ghostly presence will follow. A voice in the back of her mind tells her that she must investigate. She must know what is going on.


	3. Chapter 3

- Who are you? Danny asks, interested of the identity of this man.

- My name is Vernon Hall.

- And what do you do? For a living, I mean.

Vernon seems reluctant to answer the question at first, which Danny picks up on.

- I´m… a mall store attendant.

- How can a mall attendant come over such information as this?

- It began with me hearing people talk. I was intrigued and began to investigate.

Danny didn´t believe that for a second, it´s obviously a lie. But why lie? Vernon has told them everything he knew about Miles. Maybe it´s nothing, but Danny´s gut is screaming not to trust him. And he always follows his gut.

- You know how it sounds, right? Danny says, wanting to stay honest to Vernon as he has been to him earlier.

- Yes. Yes, I do. But it is true.

Danny stares in Vernon eyes, looking if there is any truth in Vernon´s words. But Danny can´t find it. But before he could voice his thoughts Vernon speaks.

- Anyway, if you come to know anything more about Miles, anything, call me.

He writes down his phone number on a note, leaves it on the counter and then hastily walks away out the entrance. Shara, who still sits at the same place as before, picks it up and takes a look at it.

- He has a really sloppy handwriting, she observes.

Danny looks at the doors, wondering who that man really is. Knowing that Vernon surely will be heard of again, Danny is leaved to ponder what the truth about him might be.

- Well, what do you think? Shara asks, looking at him.

- I think he hides something.

- I mean Miles. What do you think about this with Miles?

Looking at her, Danny shakes his head, knowing this is against all sanity, but yet it´s true. This might even be something very big, if the government takes such interest.

- On that, I believe every word. But when it comes to Vernon… everything isn´t as it seems.

They are quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say to break the silence. Usually there are drunks coming in, in need to be locked up for the night to sober up. Or arguing couples that can´t make it back together again and calls the police. Two cars may crash on some road in the area, if it goes really bad. But nothing like this.

But not wanting it to become one long, awkward pause, Danny speaks up on a personal matter. He looks at Shara, gives a little smile as he is about to talk.

- You know what Lizzy have done?

Elizabeth, or Lizzy as many friends and relatives usually calls her, is Danny´s grandchild of 16, and he often brags about her as if she is his own daughter. She often comes to visit him at his home a few times now and then, her parents just living around the corner from his house.

- I have no idea, Shara smiles back, leaning forward and balance her head in her hands with her elbows resting on the counter. Tell me.

She loves to hear the stories about Elizabeth, even those from when the grandchild was a small toddler.

- She got her driver license.

Shara gasps a little, taking it as great news and a great surprise.

- Get out of here, she grins, really glad for the little girl´s sake.

- She is so talented. And she is to get a new car as a gift at her birthday.

- Aw, lovely.

- But if you see her, don´t say anything. It´s a surprise.

* * *

Veronica can´t stop think about it, she must get into the asylum somehow. Just to know what Miles have seen in there. But how? The asylum is closed to the public with inspectors and soldiers turning every stone in there by the order from the government. But she must get in there somehow.

She is interrupted from her train of thoughts by the phone ringing. It´s around twelve o´clock and it´s time for lunch. She hears her belly moaning after food, and looks forward to go get something to eat. She is sitting in her office and has worked thru several meetings with patients, each and every one of them with problems of their own. She has also made a few calls to co-workers and patients, discussing how she can make the next weeks free. She has told them that she haven´t got a vacation for at least two years.

It is true, but it´s not the only reason she wants some free time. Not even the biggest, it's surely the smallest. The real reason is to get more time to investigate about the asylum without it to collide with her work, and hopefully to get answers to the questions about Upshur.

She waits a moment to answer the phone. She wonders who it might be, as she has talked to everyone who needs to be talked to. The thought hits her, maybe it´s a new patient. Veronica get´s an irritated look. If it is another patient, she must go thru the trouble to plan it in after her vacation, together with everything else.

She finally picks up the phone when it comes to its sixth ring.

- Veronica Ford speaking.

- Hello, cutie.

Veronica frowns when she instantly recognizes the voice, and when she speaks her voice is filled with irritation. She can imagine the man on the other end smile when hearing her reaction.

- Eric.

- None other, honey.

Eric Andersson is from the same college she attended when they where young, and she knows full well when he laid his eyes on her for the first time he has tried to get her out on a date. Over and over and over again, the tries from his side seemingly going on in infinity. And every time she sends him of, more angry for every time. But does that stop him from trying? Unfortunately for Veronica, no, it doesn't. And for her already big irritation he doesn't stop calling her things like honey and cutie.

- Stop calling me on the phone, she hisses into the phone.

Not taking any mind about her tone, Eric sounds as glad as ever before.

- Come on, don´t be so hard on me.

- It seems I´m not hard enough; you are still running after me.

- Oh, you don´t mean that.

Veronica leans back in her chair while pushing her fingers on her forehead in frustration. How can he be so stubborn? How long has it been since college? Ten, fifteen years? And he´s still trying. She sighs, trying to calm herself down and asks a question she thinks she already knows the answer to.

- What do you want this time?

- I have two tickets to a movie tonight in my pocket.

She rolls her eyes, obviously right in her assumption of his reason to call her and groans mentally.

- No, Eric.

- Oh, don´t be like that. See it as a well deserved break from all your troubles. Just you, me and all the other dozens of people watching the movie.

- Don´t even try, you will not get anywhere. And besides, this is the last day before my vacation so I will get enough of rest, thank you very much.

- So now I can call at any time without disturbing anything.

- You always disturb me. It´s your specialty.

- Then you always have me in your mind.

Veronica believes her mind could blow up at any moment if she doesn't let out her anger somehow, but she knows she can´t scream at Eric. Even how irritating he might be he has no bad intentions. So, trying to swallow her anger long enough to end this conversation, she breathes slowly.

- Did you call me just to make another try to take me out on a date?

- And to hear how you´re doing it.

- If I answer that will you leave me alone during my vacation?

- I will try, but it will not be easy to resist your beauty.

_It´s at least something._ She takes a deep breath, succeeding to calm herself down, hoping Eric will truly leave her alone.

- I´m fine.

- Good to hear. So… what do you say?

- About what?

- About tonight.

In an instant her anger is back, and before she could think about what she is saying she half screams into the phone.

- I have already said no!

- At least I tried. Any chance we can go tomorrow night?

She knows he is just toying with her now, amused to make her blood boil. Not able to calm herself with Eric still in the phone, she more than longs to have her quiet office to herself.

- Bye, Eric, she says with such a determined voice she could muster in her current state of mind.

And not caring to get a bye back she hangs up the phone with a loud sound at contact, not realizing she uses more strength than she means to. For the next minutes she just sits there, staring at the phone, ready to answer it again if it rings and to hang it up if it´s Eric. She can´t be too sure with him, as he seems to have made it his life's goal to bother her with a date. She hears her belly rumble again, remembering it's time for lunch. And after making herself sure that Eric are not calling back, she leaves her desk and goes to get her food.

* * *

- Miss Ford, I tell you that my bird is still alive.

The clock is two forty-five, and old lady Mary Smith is sitting towards Veronica in the patient´s chair. Mary must be over seventy years old, with a wrinkled face and strong glasses. A knitted, multicolored cardigan covers her upper body, with a white sweater underneath. With brownish pants, and old fashioned slippers, she seems to have many things to remember, but is also very forgetful.

Old lady Mary Smith must be Veronica's oldest patient coming to these meetings. And maybe also the one coming must frequent, believing her dead bird, Manny, to still be with her. She acts also accordingly, still having the birdcage. Every day she puts in new food in the cage, even when the small bucket is full with the untouched food from the day before.

- Mary, when did you last hear him sing, Veronica asks, a bit tired to do this again.

- Not in a while now, but that´s because he´s old. He´s too tired to sing all the time. Oh, you should have heard him in his younger years. It was beautiful.

- Have he eaten anything?

- No, but that´s simply because he´s not hungry. I will not force Manny if he´s not hungry.

Mentally slapping herself in the face, she sighs to this woman's prevarications.

- Have he eaten at all?

Lady Smith looks down, trying to recall. Looking up a moment later, she has a desperate feature.

- He must have.

Staring at her with tired eyes, Veronica is used to Mary insisting that the bird is still alive. Looking out the window of the office, wishing for the day to end, she sees how the birds are flying past it.

Veronica stiffens. There, in the reflection of the glass, she believes for just a second the ghost looking at her. She shakes her head, closing her eyes in disbelief. Is it really there? She looks again, more closely this time. But there is no ghost to be seen, just her own reflection.

- Anything wrong, dear? Mary looks worried at her.

No-one can miss how Veronica is behaving, not even old lady Mary Smith. Veronica bets she must look like a wreck. She feels little like a wreck, at least always having the asylum in her mind and still work as normal for the day. And with the extra work with calling all the people for getting time free she is more tired than she anticipated. But never did she think she would be so jumpy.

- N… No, I´m fine, she stutters, looking away from the window.

She must be tired, that´s all. But she isn´t sure. If it is real, however, this is the third time she seen it in two days.

* * *

Veronica enters her small apartment well after her comfort zone. It must be around seven or eight in the evening; usually she gets home at five, or five thirty. She throws her bag on the sofa in front of her medium sized TV, quickly throwing herself right on the other side. She reaches for the remote and turns on the TV, immediately greeted by the news.

- …motorway full with cars, and will be inaccessible for the rest of the day. Four o´clock this morning a truck lost control and are now blocking the road. Sometime tomorrow afternoon the mess is planned to be out of the way and the motorway will be clear.

Veronica looks at the clock, feeling too tired to cook dinner. She just feels to sit on the sofa and stare on the TV till bedtime, but she can hear her tummy rumbling. She must cook some food. So it is with heavy steps she walks to her kitchen, which is the smallest size possible, and starts the stove. And for half an hour she spends in the kitchen and makes the food, feeling she is ready to go to bed as soon as she has eaten.

The food that she puts in her plate is nothing pretty, just something that will calm her stomach. But before she sits on the sofa to eat, she retrieves her mail she walked by on the way in. Putting the plate down on the table in the living room, and sits down on the sofa, she starts to skip thru the mail and stopped at the sight of one without an envelope. Just a paper that is folded and with the words "to Veronica" on it. She put the rest down and opens it.

She can´t believe her eyes. It´s a letter from Eric. As soon she sees his name at the bottom of the paper she refuses to read the content. Eric can go too far at times; first calling her more than he should, and now he starts with letters too. Next time he calls to her office, she will hang up. And if he tries her cell phone, she will not answer at all.

* * *

As he opens his eyes he screams for help, for mercy from the horrors of his dreams. He quickly realizes that he has only lived thru another nightmare, but fear still fester in him. He is so tired, so weary of the nightmares and not able to sleep without them. In the frenzy of his panic, he fails to notice where he is. But after a moment he calms down, and gives the room he is in a look. The first thing he notices is the walls; they are covered with pillows. The second thing he notices is that he is in a straitjacket, lying on a bed by the wall at one of long sides of the room. He can´t move his arms more that the jackets allows, making his legs the only limbs he can move as he wishes.

His vision widens, and he looks at the rest of the things in the room, which are only a few. A camera is placed in one of the upper corners, watching him silently. A door is placed at one of the walls of the short sides; a metal door, thick and sturdy, with a little square hole in it. There is nothing else; the room is empty besides the bed, the camera, the door and Miles himself.

He rises to his feet and walks with lazy steps up to the door. He looks out thru the hole, trying to see if someone is out there. He sees nothing else that a hall going all the way to another door on the opposite side of his, with a few other doors in the walls on the way over there. No-one is there as he can see.

- Hey, he tries to speak in a try to get anyone's attention, hoarse after screaming so much in these last days.

Nothing happens, no-one answers him. He tries again, speaking a little higher, but the same thing is happening. He has nowhere to go, no-one to speak to. He is alone with his horrors, and he is so tired.

He is about to walk back to his bed when he freezes to a halt. He hears something, someone calling his name. Just hearing his name once, faint like a whisper, on the other side of the door. He looks out thru the hole again to see someone standing in the hall. By the looks of it it's a man in a black dress with his back towards Miles direction.

- Hey, you, Miles tries to get the man´s attention. You got to help me out. Please, open the door.

It takes a moment before the man begins to turn around, but when he does Miles feels like he is to die on the spot of fear. Screaming, he steps quickly away backwards from the door. And on the other side of the door, slowly coming closer and floats thru the door with ease, is the Walrider. The demon halts a step in front of Miles, who is screaming to be left alone and shrinks down by the opposite wall. Not having anywhere to go, and with his arms trapped in the straitjacket, Miles can´t do anything else that to scream.

The Walrider looks down at him for a moment, not showing any expression, but Miles knows it smiles. It feels good, powerful. And the second after the demons moves like the lightning, ramming Miles. But he feels no physical contact, just increased fear. And just like that, like a slap in the face, he wakes up laying in the bed of the same room, with the same camera in the same corner, the same door with its square hole and the same cushions covering the walls. He screams, as if he has never stopped from when he began in the dream, and fights against the restrains of the jacket. But even when he realizes no-one else is there with him, that the only thing there to hear him is the camera, he doesn't stop.

Because the Walrider is still there, inside him, messing with his head. Seeing it as entertaining to torture him when getting the chance, and as hysterical as Miles screams, the Walrider laughs like no tomorrow. He wishes he never went to the Asylum, that he got puncture on a tire at the car ride there, that the weather was bad or a big queue of cars stopping him, thanks to a traffic jam; anything that might have stopped him from coming there. He even wishes he died when shoot at that night, with the soldiers guns blazing and bullets flying.

But nothing of this happened, as he is lying on the bed, screaming his throat apart. He can´t stop screaming, and neither can´t the Walrider stop laughing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Doccy Larsson Seraphim: I haven´t thought of pairing Veronica with Miles yet, but it maybe is something I will consider further into the story, first getting some more chapters behind me. Mind the word maybe, as everything is possible when this story is early in the making.**

**But there is something I must ask of you. With you writing that I have "a few bits wrong", do you mean grammatical errors? Or is it something I´ve missed in the game and completely overlooked to include in the story?**

**Oh, and PS: GIVE ME THOSE TEN BUCKS!**

* * *

Danny sips on his morning coffee as he sits at his dinner table, reading the paper with the latest news. Dressed in his robe that he always takes on the mornings and eats breakfast in, one of the last things he does before going out to work is to dress in his police uniform. The sun is shining thru the window, spreading its sunlight on the dark, withered fabric of the tabletop and reaches for his face, warming his skin. The birds are singing their early mornings outside in the trees, declaring the night to be past and hailing the new day welcome. On his nose, Danny has his reading-glasses, the ones he only takes out of his pocket when reading some small text. Never taking them out otherwise, he works most of the days without them, unlike Shara, who have hers on most of her working hours.

In the newspaper he sees an article about the military cars coming to the police station yesterday, and is theorizing what´s so important with the man they picked up. Danny sighs to have been reminded of that whole affair, knowing it is a low chance he will ever get to know more of the story than he already does. He wonders why Vernon would ask him for help to get more information, as everything about it is so shady. It is all so suppressed, and thanks to what that sergeant said it seems that only a few knows the whole story. Vernon is shady, too, with first telling everything he knew and then lie to Danny´s face. What reasons could he have, to be forced to lie about what he does?

On the table, slightly to his right, is a plate with two sandwiches, both with a thin layer of butter and cheese. According to his doctor he should lay low with the butter, in a try to lower his cholesterol level. The most ideal is to go without butter completely, and he does mostly, but sometimes he wants to make his everyday a little more exclusive. The times he takes butter usually lands on once or twice a week, a perfectly good amount according to Danny himself. And today is one of those days.

He puts down his coffee and grabs hold of one sandwich, with already have a few bites on it, and is about to take another bite when he hears a key being inserted in the keyhole on his front door. Holding the sandwich in one hand and puts the newspaper on his lap with the other, Danny turns to see the door open to reveal a teenage girl. With chestnut brown hair going over her shoulders and down her back, and with blue eyes so bright they are almost mixed up as grey from a distant, she shuts the door, locking it.

- Morning, gramps, she playfully calls out, waving a hand to Danny by the table.

- Oh, hello, sweetie, he speaks up, as playful as she, while putting down the sandwich and the paper on the table. What makes me the honor to see you this early?

Putting her keys on the small lamp table standing at the entrance and letting go of her schoolbag on the floor by the collection of shoe pairs, she walks up to the table and takes a seat.

- Don´t play as if you don´t know, she smiles. You know perfectly what day it is tomorrow.

- I do? he asks, playing confused but fails miserably with purpose. No, I must say I don't know what day it is tomorrow. Have I missed an important meeting?

This making the girl smile wider, she even lets a small laughter slip, as she observed the query look on his face. Then, smiling at his grandchild, Danny laughs too.

- Of course I know what will happen tomorrow, he finally says, still smiling. As if I can forget, with you reminding me all the time.

- Yeah, she agrees. As if you would forget my birthday.

- Never in a million years.

Elizabeth, sitting at the table laughing together with Danny, must be the one of the dearest persons to the old officer. Loving his entire family, he might love his grandchild just a little more than the other members, just because of how well they agrees on things. Remembering the day he got the call, when he got himself a small grandchild, must have been the strangest day however, as he was right in the middle of a goose chase after some couple of robbers. A priceless statue was stolen from a privet collector, and the ones who stole it fled in a quick car on some small roads in the woods. Then by mistake, they drives down in a big hole and have a rotten tree landing over the escape car, the squad chasing the robbers ended up saving them by helping them out of the hole and calling for an ambulance.

And the funny thing is, if they have only avoided that big gap, they have gotten away. Maybe that´s why Danny remembers it so very well. _You have heard of reckless driving, but come on. You should have some attention on the road._ That is the only thing he can think to say about that particular case; pay attention, and you should do alright. And that is also what he says time and time again, as he tells the story for Elizabeth. He has surely done that at least a hundred times. Well, hundred and one, if you count this morning, as the teenager wishes to hear a short version of the story before going to school.

* * *

Walking down the road, the police station is not far from where he lives. Surely twenty-five minutes of walking, give or take. Walking there on the morning and then back home at night is the perfect walk every day, another thing his doctor recommends. At wintertime, however, when it is reining and sometime snowing, with a shorter day on top of it, he usually gets little grumpy thanks of it. He becomes his usual self quite fast after, when working and talking with Shara and Ian, it is barely noticeable.

Enjoying the sunny weather today, he walks with a bright mood, happy not to see that many clouds in the sky. He whistles a tune, a melody that he remembers himself to sing to Elizabeth when she was little, when he tried to make her stop crying. He has many times taken care of her, babysitting her while the parents must go out to do something important on the weekends. Looking back at those moments, when he carefully holds her small, fragile body in his arm, so tiny compared to his big stature, he can´t stop a little smile to make itself visible on his face. Those were times when keeping that small baby happy were all that mattered. To feed her when hungry, to entertain her when bored, and to make her go to sleep when tired.

If he ever had any complains it was when it comes to change her diaper, because she pooped a lot. He could live without the memory of that, but it is only to be expected to do such things when taking care of a baby. She was such an adorable infant, and she still has that twinkle in her eyes nowadays.

But when it comes between him and her father, his son, it isn´t as good relationship as he wishes it to be. The two of them have their differences, having both big fights and many tears behind them, and it all is about their views about family. Looking back at it now, ten minutes into the walk to the police station, Danny reflects that he is not proud over it. A parent should have a good relationship to their child, but he doesn't. He haven´t barely even seen his son in years, as a direct consequence of those fights, and he feels sorry for it to have gone this far. But what´s done is done, and he can´t do anything to change it.

Danny blocks out those thought, as they are evoking feelings that he has no desire to feel for a longer time, and looks on the street ahead of him the rest of the walk to the station. But when he sees the station grow as he comes nearer, he spots a small group of people standing at the entrance. By the looks of it, it´s a TV-crew, with a reporter, a cameraman and everything. In the middle of recording a sequence right by the doors, they don't seem to notice him. Deciding not to interrupt them in their work, he waits for them to finish, standing a few meters away.

Hearing the reporter speak into the microphone she holds in her hand and smiling to the camera, he gives a sigh as he hears it to be about the military being here yesterday. It´s good, as it is catching some attention of the media, who in turn is spreading the word about Miles and the asylum, but if it comes to him being forced to make an interview he don´t have that much to tell. Not in a way to make it sound right anyway, as trying to explain that a man is possessed by some kind of spirit is viewed as crazy in the eyes of many. Even he himself didn´t believe it the day before yesterday. But he does now.

Relieved to see them go as soon as they finished, Danny slips in thru the entrance. As soon as he is inside he turns to see thru the door windows, hoping not to see a second TV-crew on their way.

- Having a good day? a well recognizable voice asks from inside the room.

Glancing quickly back over his shoulder, Danny sees Shara sitting on her usual place behind the counter, observing him with an eyebrow raised. He knows it must look a little strange with him spying out the door window and smiles at her before looking back out.

- Do you know what´s going on outside? he speaks.

- Yes, I do. A group of people came in here earlier, with a woman that has an ego as big as New Jersey. They asked if I wanted to be on television.

- And what did you say?

- I said no.

Facing away from the window and walks over to the counter, Danny takes a deep breath. Looking at her, he relaxes his nerves and decides to speak with her before he will go looking for Ian.

- It seems that Miles gets some more attention, he begins.

- It´s seems so, but so far they only have the news about the military coming here and getting him, if you haven't told them about what Vernon have told us.

- No, I haven´t. Have you?

Shara shakes her head, Danny guessing she have the same reasons not to tell those people about what she knows as he have.

- I wonder if he is alright, Shara speaks quietly, getting a worried and a little sad look on her face. I have no idea what he have seen or done, but he looked to be completely destroyed.

- I know. If only we have a way to find out.

- Yeah.

They look at each other, both not being able to get their heads around the whole situation. What is happening in that asylum? What exactly is the Walrider? What did Upshur see? Both of them only able to imagine the answers at this point, none of them can´t answer these questions yet. But, hopefully, they will get to know something soon, even if they aren´t going to the asylum to take a look for themselves.

Hearing someone coming into the room, they both turns their heads and to see Leo, the receptionist during nightshifts. A young man, around his later twenties, and with red, almost orange, short hair and dark-blue eyes, he looks tired after a long night´s work. Coming from a room in the back, he carries a backpack over one shoulder, and a thin jacket made for the summer.

- I think it's time for me to head home, Shara, he speaks.

- Okay, see to it that you get some sleep, she smiles. You look like you are about to sleep where you stand.

- You kidding? he speaks, smirking, and walks to the counter and puts his hands flat on the board. The first thing I do when I come home every day is to fall asleep on the sofa.

- You really should lay down in the bed the first thing you do, and make a habit out of it. The sofa is made for as a gathering place for friends and family, and occasionally sitting in to stare at the TV, not a place to sleep.

- Then we live very different lives, you and I. Your life is strict and uneventful, your idea of fun being drinking tea and nibble on biscuits with others of your like, and my life is full of booze, stage lights and real parties.

Shara looks at Leo, giving him that stare she always gives when someone says something comical about her. The expression that says she knows it should be funny, but yet she don´t really know how. She don´t takes it personally to be the punch of a joke, she really enjoys it if the joke isn´t to rude, and always looks forward to give back in the same manner.

- And what is that suppose to mean? she asks, still with the look on her face.

- That the only thing you do on the night is to sleep while I can party until morning over here.

- Doesn't that mean, my boy, that I can party all the time during the day while you sleep? she smiles, while tilting forward. And who said I can´t throw a real party?

- You can, but that doesn't mean you do it. I know you, Shara, and you are not a reveler.

Shara takes a fake gasp, showing how hearing that is supposed to be a shock. Then, giving a sort of grimace, she ogles Leo with a smile both on her lips and in her eyes.

- He´s right, you know, Danny slips in, amused to by the scene and letting out a small laugh.

- See! Leo laughs and points at the older man. I´m not the only one.

Ogling him too, Shara cracks up and laughs as well.

- Just get going, you lazybones, she says after a while, with a grin on her lips, and signs to the door.

- Just to make one thing clear though, Danny speaks up as Leo begins to walk toward the doors. No partying at the station. Regulations are not to be broken, no matter what.

- Yeah, yeah, whatever, Leo rolls his eyes while going outside.

* * *

Looking down on some pictures in his wallet, Danny has just been walking his round, checking the prisoners in their cells. Sitting in the staff room, he glances just for a second up at the wall, gazing on the clock hanging on a nail. Three thirty. Most of the day has gone by; just a few things have occurred while it has ticking away and made it not that important to remember. One man arrested for destroying someone else's property, two other men for physical assault and a third for disturbing the peace. Polices out in the field have handled the rest, with issuing fines and other things. It seems to be a quiet day today.

Looking down again, concentrating on the pictures in his wallet, he gets a tired feature observing them. There are three pictures; one of them is of his family consisting of him, his wife, Bella, and their only son, Michael. Taken a long time ago, all of them are younger, Michael only being eleven years old. Danny, being in his thirties on the picture, has only been in his early twenties while becoming a father, Bella only a few years younger. Danny remembers it being hard back then, as he has only begun to work after a life of education.

His wife, not even being his wife yet back then, was still in college, so it was hard on her, too. But with the help of both their families, they did it. They raised a son, and, in time, could handle everything on their own. They later married, with a grand fest to celebrate it and all their friends and relatives to celebrate with.

The second picture being of Michael, he must have been fourteen, and is to begin at high school. They scarcely afforded the fee, but the young parent having saved as much money as possible since his birth, they were lucky. And for a few more years, their son could go to school. Sadly, they never got enough money for getting him into college; Michael has to find work after his graduation.

Danny sighs at these memories, these struggles he had to fight to go thru; with the hard times he had to endure with Bella, they made him and his wife close. Sometimes it strained their relationship, yes, but they were always to be good friends. Sitting down and talk has always been the key. And it´s with a heavy breath he remembers her death.

With that, he comes to the last picture in his wallet. It´s at Elizabeth, when she was an infant, sitting at the floor and looks up at the camera, with big curious eyes and an open mouth. He himself has taken this photo, when he was babysitting her once. He must have been in his early forties. Danny´s son was in his twenties when becoming a father, just like himself. And that is the cause of the fights between the two.

Danny didn´t like the thought that Michael, his own son, is getting himself a family when he is of such a young age, and he still holding on to that today. His son not having such a good job, and the woman he is with has the same problem, Danny knows how hard it is to do this, to take care of a child and still be there to play with it, to speak to it. And hoping that his son wouldn´t do the same, Danny was disappointed when hearing his son say that he wants to get a family of his own.

Not wanting to think more of the past, Danny closes the wallet and stands up from the table. He walks out of the staff room, and goes to find anything he can work with.

* * *

Ian, being quiet where he sits at his desk and does his paperwork, ogles nervous on Danny. The old officer is sitting with his back towards Ian, minding his own pile of work in the form of papers. Ian´s attention goes back to his own working bench, looking at the text on the paper in front of him. But he isn´t reading, instead he is thinking how to say what´s on his mind. He is agitated, but does his best to conceal it and believes Danny doesn't suspect anything.

He remembers yesterday, how the soldiers barges in at the small office. They take everything they could find that is tied to Miles. More specifically, the documents he carried when he was brought in. Ian don´t know what is on them, he never got the time to read them before the soldiers snatched them from his worktable, but it must have been something important as the word classified is on each and every one of them with big, blood-red letters. But there is one thing they didn´t take, one thing they missed and never asked about, and maybe that´s because Ian took it home the night before yesterday. A handheld camcorder, with a cassette in it.

They haven´t the right tools to look at it at the station, but he have at his house. He only wanted to see what was recorded on the cassette, to take the chance to see what Miles have seen. But when he came home the night before yesterday, he never came to look at it. But the intrusion at the station yesterday made him really curious what´s on it. So he have looked at it now, the night prior of today.

He haven´t told anything to Danny about taking the camcorder home; the old officer believes it to be in the hands of the soldiers. Ian knows he should speak up, but he doesn´t know how to begin. Glancing at him again, Ian is troubled to no end. What was recorded on that cassette is freighting, showing that the Mount Massive Asylum is anything else than a real asylum. Maybe it began that way, he have no way of telling, but it isn´t anymore.

Ian swallows hard, deciding he must say something. He takes a shaking breath, and speaks.

- Dan.

- Yes, what is it?

A pause. Danny turns his head halfway and looks behind him towards his younger colleague over his one shoulder, waiting to hear Ian say something more.

- I-I…, Ian stutters, looking down at his feet. I… know how he lost his fingers.

Turning around completely, Danny looks at him. When Ian glances up, he sees Danny having a serious face, with eyes curious for more. But there is also confusion in his face, wondering how Ian can possibly know that.

- I still have the camera, Ian continues.


	5. Chapter 5

Driving on a small road, not out of concrete but made out of two small lines close together made by compact dirt, Miles is looking on the two circles of light in the darkness in front of him made by the car´s headlights. Listening on the mumble from the radio, he can only imagine what he might see this coming night. The tall, dry grass on each side of the road brushes the doors of the car, and the big trees are stretching above him, leaving a narrow slice of the darkening heaven.

Static blocks out the voice coming from the radio, making Miles frown, turning it off. It isn't anything important anyway, as the only reason to have the radio on is to get the feeling not to be alone during the car ride. It's something he often does when driving longer distances, a habit of some sort which gives him comfort. And even if he doesn't listen to it to closely, something might get his attention, like something important on the news.

Driving by a big sign made of stone bricks, with a metal plate with a few words engraved on it, he reads the name of his destination.

- Mount Massive Asylum, Miles speaks quietly, as he takes a turn, seeing the big, castle-like building standing high, with its stone-fence surrounding it.

The first gate, a big gate of metal made to keep cars outside, is wide open. But right behind it there is a customs station, with its barrier down. And after that, there is another metal-gate just like the first one, but it´s closed, too. Miles stops the car, turning it off and observes the asylum. He has a second thought about going in now, as to the quietness. Looking at the small booth besides him, where it should be an officer to check the car and inventory of everyone coming here for weapons and other dangerous things, there is no-one to see. Miles don´t step out of his car for several minutes, thinking it should be someone meeting him by the gates.

But no-one comes.

After sitting there for a few minutes he wishes the radio would work, so he can have something to listen to. Shivering a little, as it feels like the darkness is creeping nearer, he never liked it to wait a longer time without anything to do. Deciding to go out of the car to get a better look on the surroundings, he looks at his side on the passenger seat. There lies a document, a camera and two batteries. Taking the papers first, saying confidential on the front of it with red letters, he opens the file and reads the content.

"_September 17, 2013  
From: 10260110756  
To: milesupshur  
Subject: TIP/Illegal Activity at Murkoff Psychiatric Systems _

_You don't know me. Have to make this quick. They might be monitoring. _

_I did 2 weeks of software consult at MURKOFF Psychiatric Systems' facilities in Mount Massive. All sorts of NDA's I am very much breaking right now but seriously, fuck those guys. _

_Terrible things happening there. Don't understand it. Don't believe half the things I saw. Doctors talking about dream therapy going too deep, finding something that had been waiting for them in the mountain. People are being hurt and Murkoff is making money. _

_It needs to be exposed."_

Looking up again, he spies at the windows of the building. A few of them are lit; others are dark as the night sky above him. Trying to spot movements at the various floors of the house, he strains himself forward against the front window of the car. Not seeing anything for several seconds that suggests at any activities in the big asylum, he leans back in his seat and closes the file. Reaching back in the backseat, he takes a hold of his backpack to put down the papers in. With the pack on his lap, he takes the camera and the two batteries from the seat at his side. Putting one battery in the camcorder, Miles takes it to his face and looks up at the building thru it.

Zooming in, and putting on the night vision, he tries once again to see if there is anyone inside in the various windows in the building, able to see thru the dark rooms as well. Then, looking down thru the second gate, he spots the entrance. Now, after ten minutes of waiting, he believed that someone should have noticed his car standing there on some camera feed, or just by looking out the window. And not seeing any movement by the entrance, he gets this strange feeling in his belly. He shouldn´t be here. But as an investigative reporter, and a frequent writer in the newspaper, it is his job to be at places where he isn´t welcome.

Taking the camera out of his face and putting its strap around his neck, he closes his backpack and heads out of the car, locking it with a push of a button on his keys and with the pack hanging over his one shoulder. The first thing he does is to go up to the second gate and tries to open it. Noticing it to be locked, he looks around to see a smaller gate and tries it instead. It opens, and he walks in to the medium sized garden. With a small brick-road going in a circle, making cars able to drive a lap around it and exit thru the same way they entered, it looks decorative if he seen it on the day. With the darkness of the night covering it now however, it has a spooky feeling to it.

Going up to the entrance of the house, he tries to open them, as he hopes they are not to be locked as the front gates. But he is disappointed to find that they are. Looking thru the thin windows positioned in the doors, he sees only curtains blocking his view and nothing else. He takes up the camcorder, thinking that he might as well begin to record the front of the house. He puts the backpack on the ground and digs up one cassette he has taken with him, able to record ten hours. Thinking that he should not need to record more that than that, this must be more than enough. And when he often only need these videos to look at later when he is to refresh his memories to write in the newspaper, he don´t want it to be too long.

Putting the cassette into the camera and swinging his pack on his one shoulder again, he pushes the red button and starts to record the front side of the house.

- This is Mount Massive Asylum, he speaks high and clear, to make himself sure that the camcorder gets it, and shows the front side of the building to it. After ten minutes of waiting by the car, no-one has come to see me. I have no idea if they have even noticed me or not, but I have at least walked up to the front doors. They are locked. I must find another way in.

Walking to the side, with the camcorder still in front of his face to record everything he happens to look at, he sees another small gate, much as the one he used to get into the front garden. Seeing this one being locked from a few meters distance, by the chains linking the both gate's sides together and a big lock hanging from it, he first thought is to look somewhere else for a way in. But then seeing the big, gaping hole on the lower part, wide enough for him to crawl under, he walks closer.

Kneeling in front of it, Miles examines it thru the screen of the camera. The sight of the thick metal turn upwards makes him feel uneasy. By the looks of it, it hasn't been done with the help of tools, but by raw muscle-power. Whoever that has done this, Miles don´t want to make this person angry. He can see in his mind how that scenario will end, and it isn't beautiful.

- Looks like someone have bent the metal to get out, or something, he speaks. But why?

With an increasing interest to what might going on in the asylum, he wants to get in any way impossible. But the feeling in his gut tells him it is to be a bad idea, and he looks back to his car. If he wants to, he can drive away, back to his home and his warm bed. But feeling this to be something important to do, he looks back at the hole in the gate and glares at the bent metal before crawling thru the hole. He stands up quickly once he got to the other side of the gate, brushing of the dirt from his clothes with his one free hand. To his immediate right there is a pair of stairs going along the wall, ending with a door. Trying to open it, he sighs when it proves to be unsuccessful. But getting his hopes up when seeing a scaffold alongside another wall leading up to an open window, he smiles as he walks towards it.

As he climbs the ladders and hops between wood-planks, with the camera hanging from his neck turned off, he gets a good look on a few windows up close. Unfortunately, the curtains are covering all of them, so Miles have no chance to see what's inside. But seeing the light being turned on in all of these rooms, he can't stop thinking that someone should be inside at least one of them. But not seeing a shadow or a silhouette of anyone, the feeling of unease only grows.

Reaching the open window, he sees it being quite high up even when he is on the top of the scaffold. He stretches with his both arms and feels his hands getting a good hold, and with one sweep he drags himself up and into the room. Feeling good for a moment for how fit he is, he forgets the lingering warning his stomach is nagging about for just a second. He smiles to himself, flexing his arms and his back a bit.

The lamp shining in the roof flickers, and blows up with a loud boom. The sudden sound makes Miles jump, immediately looking up. It's too dark now with the lights out, so he brings the camera up to his face. Recording, he turns on the night vision, and the second after he sees the mess in front of him; tables, chairs and benches either turned upside-down or smashed to bits. Taking a few steps forward, he observes the rubble spread out in the room, believing the only thing leaving this room as it is to be a tornado.

- Hello, Miles calls, in a try to see if anyone is in earshot. Anyone here?

When neither getting an answer nor seeing that nothing happens, he gets really worried. What happened to this place? Where is everybody? Surely there must be someone here, right? Already observed that the lights in many rooms are on, there must have been someone here to light them.

Seeing a door out of the room ajar, he doesn't take long to approach it. He opens it carefully, still recording with the camera, and glances out the door. He finds himself in a hallway, with the path to his right blocked with more lumber, a room on the opposite side of the room he's in with its door completely open and to his left a door made of iron grid blocked by some wood. Not seeing any other way to go than the open door in front of him, he walks forward. Now, with the bright light from the lamps in the hallway, Miles turns of the night vision but keeps on recording.

With the light a bit more damp in this room than it was out in the hallway, it's still enough to see without the help of the night vision. The different things of furniture of this room not being in the same state as the room before, there are still one or two things on its side. Bookshelves filled with books covers much of the walls, giving space to the two big windows on one wall. An open fireplace with no fire stands on the short-side of the room, and sofas with several armchairs facing it, this must have been some kind of recreation or staff room. Over the fireplace there is a quite big TV-screen, not showing anything that a black square, signaling it to be turned off.

Taking a step forward, he slowly spins one turn on the spot, showing the interior of the room for the camera. He whistles to show how impressed he is, looking at all the books and the fireplace. Never afforded to get something large to live in, this room is like luxury for him. Taking a closer look on the books on one bookcase, he grabs one with his free hand and reads the cover.

- How to memorize, quick and easy. I should read this.

Remembering when he forgot to call his mother on mother's day just a few weeks ago, he opens to the first page, wanting to quickly read the introduction. In hopes to learn something small about getting a better memory before moving on, he takes the camcorder to the side, but didn't stop it from recording. A note falls from inside the book and descends to the floor. Sparking his interest, he puts the book down and picks the note up from between his feet. He finds that someone has written a message.

"_Dead eyes are watching you as you walk thru the dark."_

- What the…? Miles says slowly, but is cut off by something.

A sound, very sudden and very loud, makes him scream and jumps away the other direction where the sound comes from and right into the bookcase he is standing by, dropping the camera to the floor. It was only short, and it got real quiet as before just a second after, but nevertheless, it's like it never stopped in Miles ears. With the adrenalin pumping, and holding up the bookshelf so it won't fall down on him, he turns his head to see what could have made the sound. Realizing it to be the TV, with its screen now covered with flickering black and white little dots making it almost gray, he sighs and releases the furniture from his hands. Boredom makes him stare on the TV, tired from being scared. First from a flickering light, and now from a TV.

Realizing he still got the note cramped in his one hand, he looks at it again. The words are still clearly visible, but the paper is now lumpy and uneven. Trying his best to make it straight again, he reads the line one more time.

- Dead eyes are watching you as you walk thru the dark. Huh, must be mad, all of them. Even those taking care of the nutties.

Putting the note in his pocket and sets the book back in its place, he takes up the camera and checks for any damage. Not finding any, and seeing it still work as it is recording, he takes it up to his face and approaches the TV. Seeing nothing wrong with it he turns it off.

- Stupid TV, he growls, and frowns at it.

Noticing a closed door from where he haven't entered, he gives the television a final stare before he walks away to explore what more he can find on the other side of the untouched door.

Poking out his head, he sees the same hallway he was in before, but he is on the other side of the lumber. On the opposite side of the lumber there are more trash, but seeing a narrow gap, he believes himself to be able to squeeze all the way to the other side. Taking of his backpack and holds it with his one hand, with the camcorder in the other, he pushes himself all the way. But when he gets clear, he stops and stares in front of him, with eyes growing and fear gripping hold of his stomach. His expectations of what this whole thing is about turns around completely, and he wonders if he really should go thru with it.

There are bloodstains on the floor and a few on the walls, with some paint scratched away here and there. Someone has been attacked, or so Miles believes, as he observes a red handprint on the wall beside him. With a faint, very faint, smell of rotting flesh, he knows there must be a body nearby, and fearing to see the remnants of a murder, his body starts to mildly shake. He drops his pack, and slowly puts the camcorder to his face, and thru the recording camera he observes the red spots. Not believing he would investigate a murder, he is utterly shocked by the blood and the smell.

- Fuck…

And so, his troubles are beginning to unravel with a simple swearword, quietly spoken in a confused and worried tone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note:**

**First thing of all I want to point out that I will go on with writing the story, even when there are many grammatical errors and my original thought was to take care of them before continuing on the story. But I'm itching to write more chapters, and it will only be excruciating not to continue until the editing the chapters already published is done. I will one day take it into my hands to clear out all the errors, but it will not be now or any time soon. Call me lazy or unfocused, but hey, I'm the one writing the story here.**

**Also I want to point out that I have at least changed how I write the dialog in this chapter, and will do it in the same fashion from this chapter and onwards. I have noticed that people get confused about what's speech and what isn't, so I come to use " instead of -. And some day, I will change the dialog of the first five chapters so it will be like this too.**

**When I have done the changes that I describe above, I will delete this part of the note. No need to have it here when the changes have been made.**

**I would like to thank two people, the first one being joestej for helping me with editing. Thanks for your help, joestej. I hope we can continue someday.**

**The second person I like to thank is Besteck. Having an account on the site DeviantART, I asked her for permission to use one of her pictures as a cover image for this story. She agreed, and I'm happy she did because she is really good at painting. Look at her work on DeviantART under the name Besteck, and on tumblr under the name fanartdrawer. Thank you, Besteck. Keep on painting.**

**Lastly I like to announce my "Credit board" section on my profile, where I write down everyone who helps me.**

* * *

The picture of the hall with the blood spilled on the floor freezes, and there is a sigh. There's Danny, putting down the remote and rubs his tired face with his both hands, sitting in the sofa in front of the TV with its screen lit with colors from the content of the cassette. With him is Ian, sitting right beside him and with his eyes looking in front of him. There is dark outside, as the hour is late and the need of sleep is making itself known in the both men. They are at Ian's place, a medium big apartment. Right now they are sitting in the living-room and have just watched the first minutes from the cassette. It must have been only fifteen minutes long at least, and so far it have only told the two men that Vernon have spoken the truth about Miles coming to the asylum. But Danny has yet to see what horrors there is down in the belly of Mount Massive.

"So this is how it all began?" Danny asks with a weary voice. Ian turns his head at the older man, a bit puzzled over why he stopped the video. "Don't you want to look at it?"

"Yes, I do. But I only want to prepare myself. Based on what you have told me, there will be something more serious than blood coming about here."

Ian furrows his forehead, glancing at the screen before looking back at Danny. "Yeah, there will be bodies, too," the young cop speaks. "But you must have seen blood and bodies before. You are a police, I mean. We both are."

Danny, glaring at Ian, gets a serious face to show that he means business. "I have seen bodies, if you mean that. It comes with the job. And I have seen my share of injuries and violence during my time. But that doesn't mean I like what I see. Unlike you, I don't want to look at horror movies to get frighten. I only need to think what our world has come to."

Looking back at the image, Danny gets an unnerving feeling. How much will this tape show? How much time will the government need to understand that they have missed this small, but yet so important, object? Do they even know they miss it? He just needs to wait and see to get the answer on these questions, but he has how it will go. If it shows that the government has no idea of the cassette and its content, the two officers can look at it how many times they want without end. If they are careful to whom they show to, that is. Anyone can say the wrong thing to the wrong person without even knowing it, and that way dangerous information can come to dangerous men.

But if the government notices something's gone and does comes back, seeing the tape in the hands of some cops, then surely Ian and Danny goes without jobs. And if the agents sent by the government even suspect them to have seen what's on the tape, then something far worse will follow. Interrogations and imprisonment seems most appropriate, but that is a very big if. To have grumbled on it during the first minutes of the tape, and a little further now when looking at the frozen screen, Danny finds it best to keep the tape as long as possible. And if it comes to the government pressing on the matter, then they will give it to them in an innocent manner. How they will react if that scenario comes to be, Danny has no clear idea how the future might hold except the obvious.

"Ian, does anyone other than the two of us know about this tape?" Danny finally asks, after just sitting there for a second.

"No, Dan. Only the two of us."

"Good. Make sure it stays that way, okay. No-one is to know about this tape and what's on it."

Ian seems to be a bit reluctant, as he gets a look at his face just screaming that he disagrees. To keep this to themselves is not something he can understand, as he finds it that his friends should know, and Danny understands. But the more people who know about this, the more people can come in harm's way.

"We must tell at least someone," the young man pleads. "What about Shara? She must know, at least."

"No. Not Shara, not anyone. You hear me? No-one. If we told her about this, she might get nervous if people comes and ask questions. You know how she gets when people come prying."

Ian remembers how Shara have raised her voice a bit awkwardly when trying to cover for Leo when the man had destroyed a window by mistake when Ian have asked about it, and she gives just small, very, very small hints she's lying. If she is bad at something, it is to lie. She might be good at avoiding the subject, but when given a question about a specific subject, she's out in the blue.

"Listen here," Danny continues. "I think the same as you. Why not tell the whole world? Let everyone know what happened in that asylum, but as it plays out now it will only go to our disadvantage. We should stay low right now, and think on what we should do. If the government hears that we have a tape full of their secrets they will get right here and arrest us."

"What do we do then?" Danny grows quiet, as he tries to think of some sort of plan. He feels the tiredness of the day's hard work cling to him, as his thoughts are a bit groggy and slow. Looking from Ian to the screen, from the screen to the window, and from the window back at Ian again, he tries to spring his grey brain-cells into action.

"I don't know," Danny speaks defeated when nothing comes to mind. Both men are quiet, with their eyes staring at the dark space around them, the only thing giving some light is the TV. None of them able to figure out any good way to approach the problem, they sit there in silence for a moment before Danny grabs the remote again with a small grunt. He knows it is late and both of them are supposed to go to bed now, but they need to look what more there is on the tape. Just a small bit of the beginning will not do, he want to see at least most of the video under one go. And feeling ready to see the rest of the video, he pushes the button and lets the film continue.

* * *

Shara walks out of the car in front of her house, looking forward to eat something small before going to bed. She is always starving this time of the day. Maybe it's unhealthy to eat right before going to bed, but she refuses to end the day by thinking how hungry she is. She might agree that she needs to eat a little less when she observes the few pounds she have gathered these last years, but that might as well have no connection at all according to herself. _I'm allowed to eat whatever I want, how much I want. Damn it if a doctor comes and tells me how I live my life._

Making sure to lock the car behind her, she walks up the stairs to the small porch in front of the door. She reaches for her keys in her pocket and puts the right one into the keyhole of the inviting door, painted brown and with a small window in the form of a half-moon. Below her feet there is a small carpet with the word _"Welcome",_ the fabric well worn and old so that each letter is faint. For a long time, Shara has planned to buy a new one. But she has never come around to do it.

Before she walks into the darkness that covers the small hall inside, she spies on the loose flakes of dried paint here and there on the outer walls. Tree walls, with the planks going vertically, are painted with a whitish paint. She believes it have been white once upon a time. But it's more beige now, thanks to the thin layer of dirt. _Some day, I must do something about it. Or it will only get worse._

Inside, she hangs her jacket on a small hook on the wall. She head to the kitchen, wasting no time to get something in her stomach. When walking into the room, she sees the light already being on. By the kitchen table, a man has already taken a seat, with a plate of food in front of him, chewing slowly. It's Shara's husband, Jerry. "Welcome home," he greats with a tired smile.

"Thanks," she smiles back. "How have your day been?"

"As yesterday, and the day before that," he speaks with a shrewd look in his face. Shara gives Jerry a friendly glare, showing what she thinks about that answer. It's not a real answer to give, but yet he gives it as soon as she asks how the day has been. And he knows it irritates her a bit, but not in an angry way. It more like an inside joke, some well placed little encourage to smile. And it's a reminder of why Shara likes Jerry so much.

"Jerry…," she warns with a playful tone as she stops at the table.

"I know, I know. But you should know by now, my brain goes flat whenever you walk into the room; your dazing beauty gets to me every time"

"Aw, how cute of you to say. And it would have been even cuter if you have done some food to me, too."

Glancing down on his plate, Jerry gets a guilty look. "I was hungry."

"Jerry!"

"Ah, just kidding," he smiles again. "There is some for you on the stove." Laughing a bit while observing her grin, Jerry takes some more food of his plate and puts it in his mouth.

* * *

Miles don't know what it is at first. Even before he opens his eyes, before becoming aware of his surroundings from an unknown time asleep, he feels something have changed. But it doesn't take long before he recognizes it. The laughter. The laughter is gone. In its stead there is silence of the kind when someone is concentrating. _My God. He is concentrating!_ Milesis no stranger to fear, he has gotten more of it these last days than in a lifetime, but nothing can compare of the feeling he has now. Terrified. Utterly and completely terrified. _What will he do?_

Miles opens his sluggish eyes, and groans inside for how tired he is. He closes them again, as all he sees is blurry. He notices that he is lying trapped, though, with some leather straps holding down his legs and arms. The second thing he notices is that he is lying down on his back. Thinking there is no good coming out of the knowledge of being forced down like this, he opens his eyes again and makes the effort to see clearly.

All around him he is greeted by men and women dressed in white coats, each and everyone working with various things. Some of them are cooperating with one specific task, discussing the best way to move forward with low, muffled voices. Others are reading something on cliff boards, observing monitors or writing reports. He grows even more frighten over the sight of the white coats; something he thought wasn't possible in his current state. He can see that they are not doctors, by the looks of what they are doing they seems to be scientists, but there is just something in his brain that puts the two things together automatically; white coats is equivalent to medical doctors.

The room is medium in size and is filled with different equipments; most of them are things Miles doesn't even dare to categorize. The reason is that he isn't good at guessing the uses of completely unknown things, but who can blame him in this situation; these machines looks like nothing he have seen before. And as an investigative reporter, he has seen a lot of things. There are no windows, making it impossible for any natural light to enter. Soft, bluish light comes from lights in the ceiling, and the walls are made of solid metal, constructed to tolerate much of stress. One look at those reinforced walls and Miles knows these people counts for even the unlikeliest outcome, giving him only more reasons to fear whatever these people will do to him.

No-one gives Miles a second thought, though. Except one. It's a man, with no different clothes from the others, with scabby, brown hair that looks unkempt. Eyeing Miles, the man seems not to have anything better to do than to stand there. The two of them are watching each other, none of them eager to start a conversation. When observing his observer, Miles recognizes the black marks under the eyes and the little dull movements as the well-known signs of sleeplessness. Even when Miles more than wonders what the Walrider has in mind, he can't stop himself to feel resent towards the figure in front of him. The scientist might not have slept during this last night, but Miles must have been refused sleep for more than he can count, with only a few moments of relief before waking up screaming from a nightmare.

The man finally turns his back towards Miles, and walks away to his colleagues. Miles takes the chance to look more closely at another figure not far from him. A woman, dressed in the common white coat, looking at a cliff board in her hands. With the papers in full view to him, most of the text is too small to read from the distance he has. But there are three words on the top of the page big enough for him to read.

"_Test nr. 1."_

His eyes grow wide, his mouth drops open and he feels his hands start trembling. This is why the Walrider is silent, why Miles have been moved from the room with the walls covered with cushion and why there is need for the scientists. Looking away, he dares not think of the details of what will come.


End file.
